


A kiss stored in the corner of his mouth

by ZukkaFireTrash



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alforan - Freeform, Angst, Backstory, Canonical Character Death, Coran Angst, Established Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Gay Space Dads, M/M, also, space dads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 18:54:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10668747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZukkaFireTrash/pseuds/ZukkaFireTrash
Summary: The war raged, but two boys - now men, still love, still lose, still hide the pain.((Or Coran and Alfor are together and we get to see what happens in the minutes before Coran is shoved into the cryopod, and capture glimpses of their past together.))((Or - again - A fill-in-the-gap of why Coran woke up at least 5 minutes after Allura))





	A kiss stored in the corner of his mouth

The ship shook violently, this wasn’t going to end well.

_“Your fleet has been destroyed, Alfor. I will be there shortly to claim Voltron.”_

The sky blazed orange outside, Zarkon’s last words shooting through them like an icy blast. The castle quaked, screens going blank with the blast, systems were shutting down, wires were sparking and a terrible rumble groaned through the ship. Their eyes met, a flurry of emotion surged through the both of them, worry, despair, fear, courage, acceptance. There was no way this would end well.

“Father, we must form Voltron- We have to do something, we can’t just sit here and- and _wait.”_ Allura urged, forehead creased with tension, “We’d be like sitting duflax!”

“I’m sorry Allura,” Coran swallowed thickly, eyes staying locked onto Alfor’s for a moment longer before he tore away his gaze to glance at the young princess, “Right now there really isn’t much we can do.”

“If we hadn’t sent the Lions away-,”

“But I _did,_ Allura.” Alfor said, “I did, I couldn’t risk them falling into Zarkon’s grasp. _‘If’s_ and _‘but’s_ will do nothing but waste time.”

The young woman nibbled fiercely at her bottom lip, tears of frustration and fear welling in her eyes as she let out an irate growl. Alfor again locked gaze with Coran, there was only one thing to do - It was desperate and would cost them so much, but for now it was _safe._

“I’m sorry, Allura,” Alfor whispered, bringing his daughter into a tight hug as Coran readied a cryopod behind and unbeknownst to her, then as the glass slid down, she was being pushed back, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Realisation hit as the glass slid back up, separating her from what was left of her family, “I love you, my daughter, my Allura.”

Allura’s eyes were wide and filled with an emotion akin to betrayal, her fists balled as they pounded on the glass calling out to her father - then she was gone, asleep, crystallised for 10,000 years. There was no way to get her out now, not unless a code known only to the two Altean’s in the room was entered.

“She will never forgive me.” Alfor’s eyes were shut tight as he turned to his trusted advisor.

“She will. We’ll do as planned, sleep for long enough to wait out this battle, then reemerge and regroup. He won’t win Alfor.” Coran assured, stepping closer to his king, raising a hand to rest on the king’s shoulder, then his neck, then finally stilling on his cheek, “We will win this war. No matter how long it takes.”

“Gods, I hope you’re right.” Alfor whispered, all the fear he’d bottled up, finally able to come crashing down.

Here with Coran, as the battle raged on outside the castle doors, foreheads pressed together and hearts beating in time with one another, he was safe. And, oh, did Alfor want to stay like this forever, safe, warm, in love - that childlike wonder he’d felt when he’d first caught a glimpse of ginger hair, sparkling eyes and that dazzling smile. The teenage awe of being giddy and wonderstruck, glances shared with his first and only love, the tears shed when Coran had pierced both of their ears in a bout of rebellion - having not yet confessed their feelings and claiming each other as soulmates “ _forever and always.”_

He wanted to stay in that feeling, that helplessness, the awe of it all, the tingle of a first kiss, the heat and warmth of shared gazes. That flutter of love - the real kind. The kind that surfaced and stayed the night before Alfor’s wedding, as the two shared desperate, longing, promised hours under the stars and galaxies so far above them. The night they had run away, spread out a blanket in the forests just outside the kingdom’s walls and stayed there the entire night, amongst the whispers and touches and feather light kisses, were long tear-stained conversations and nails marring skin in the most beautiful way, and kisses that bit and lingered and vowed to never let go. They made their own promises that night - without a priest or an official ceremony. They pledged themselves to each other, to always protect and cherish and to love wholly and with all of their hearts. The stars that night reflected and glimmered in Coran’s mystifying eyes. Alfor never had been able to get over the sheer beauty of Coran’s eyes, the way they seemed to display every emotion, to those who cared enough to look closely.

And right now, fear- panicked and frenzied- danced deep in those beautiful eyes.

“I love you.” Alfor whispered. It was a promise, and an offering and an apology all wrapped in one.

Neither one knew who leant forwards first, probably both, in tandem and with the intent to feel that wonder and beauty of first love - _only_ love. Their lips merged in a mingle of passion and desperation, the bittersweet blend of the salt from their tears and the familiar taste of their lips blending to create something sickly that seemed to save them. Their fingers brushed cheekbones, clasped into hair, nails dug in sharp, grounding themselves on that familiar feeling.

Their kisses were a melodious saviour, yet painful and raw. Only when the kisses slowed to one last planet-shattering press did Alfor speak again, “You must protect her, Coran, there’s no one I trust more.” The king averted his eyes ever so slightly, they both know the next words that he spoke would be a complete lie, “Everything will be alright, come tomorrow morning, you’ll be out and we’ll be safe. I’ll follow you into a pod.”

He was lying, and Coran knew that. He knew that this would probably be the last time they ever saw each other. He shoved those thoughts right to the back of his mind.

Alfor drew him in close, foreheads gently knocking together, before he dipped down to press their lips together once more. It was simple and beautiful - like the time when they were children, Coran had presented Alfor with a juniberry flower, tucking it behind the young prince’s ear, it’s purple bloom was a simple contrast to his silvery hair.

Then Coran was being pushed back, back, back, until he was stumbling into the already open pod, the glass slid shut and he held a hand up to the glass at the same time as Alfor, palms almost but not quite touching. It was almost physically painful.

“I love you.” Coran whispered, tears threatening to fall, then something behind Alfor causes Coran’s eyes to widen in sheer terror.

_Oh, Quiznack-_

What seemed to be hundreds, but in reality is probably only ten, Galra soldiers poured into the room, seemingly silent as a klanmüirl cub, as Alfor seemed not to notice at all. Coran’s eyes turned glassy, he knew the sleeping gas is about to kick in, but pure unadulterated panic surged through him. His fists pounded against the glass, trying to warn- or break through- or _something,_  because his king- his _Alfor_ is in trouble and there was absolutely nothing he could do.

“Intruders!” He yelled, _screamed,_ confusion clouding Alfor’s vision, and Coran hands start to weaken, thumping going dull as he frantically tried to warn his lover, his soulmate. The last image he saw before his 10,000 year sleep is Alfor’s lips mouthing _“I love you,”_ and a Galran blade slicing quick and harsh against Alfor’s back.

 

~

 

When he wakes it takes a moment for him to realise how long it’s been, he gasps, eyes wide with utter terror, and a yell of, _“Alfor!”_ on his lips before his senses adjust and he watches the five strange beings surround his princess. Alfor is gone. Coran knows with the sharp ache in his chest and the stinging in his eyes that he’ll never see him again.

"Coran- Why did you- what...?" Allura's questions are jumbled and confused, eyebrows furrowed she finally decides on a question, "What happened before your sleep?"

"Alfor took me by surprise, Princess, I think." Coran lies, "My memory is still a little scrambled."

Allura seems to take that, so Coran goes to fake fighting with the one who would Paladin the blue lion, Lance. Then they start on a battle plan as soon as possible, and that might just keep him sane.

He holds back his emotions, throwing himself into that role of the quirky ‘alien’ to these new Paladins, he’s Coran the man that keeps himself together, who patches up the team, and knows what to do when things go wrong. He sticks to his role, and holds in the pain clawing and screaming inside of him for much, much longer than he should have.

 

~

 

It’s a night like any other, when his soul is plagued with dreams and nightmares. Heartbeat erratic, the scenes torment him. They start out like most, seemingly happy memories, remembrances long since faded away. He’s sat with Alfor, fingers interlaced, on one of those rare and far between days where they’d snuck away from the castle, from the court, from everything but each other. The grass soft under their heads, the breeze warm, sun setting, and the stench of the flowers that surround them sweet. Too sweet. These memories twist and contort, changing to imagined scenes that torture him to watch. Had Alfor died with dignity, mere dobashes after Coran had fallen into sleep, fighting with all his might, battling until his final breath? Had he died right in front of the pod? With Coran, the love of his life, within an arm's reach? Had he died then and there? With Coran’s frantic eyes as the last thing he saw?

Or had he escaped? Been captured? Experimented on like Shiro? Had he fought for many months, years after? Or was it slow and painful, tortured to death by his old friend?  

Each question that invaded him set alight a new image, a scene that was played over and over until it’s every horrific and agonising detail was etched into the very corners of his mind.

Coran woke covered in sweat, eyes red raw from crying, throat sore from yelling out Alfor’s name in his twisted, troubled slumber. Allura was by his bedside, as are the new Paladins of Voltron. They looked on at him with concern in their eyes.

Allura’s eyes had always been strikingly familiar to her father’s, the same shade of crystalline blue, now alight with that same confusion and worry Coran had seen in those final ticks that he’d last seen him.

New, fresh tears spilled steadily down his cheeks, sobs wracking his body as he whispered- or screamed, he couldn’t quite tell- of how much he _misses_ the man he loved, of how much Alfor had meant to him, he cried and yelled his failures as an advisor, a trusted second-in-command.

“I failed him.” He sobbed, “He trusted me, oh Gods, he put his faith in me, he _loved_ me, and I failed him. What man voluntarily saves himself before the one he loves?”

The Paladins and the princess watched Coran break down, confusion amongst most of them, _was he talking about the king?_ But ripples of sympathy, empathy, comfort was what most let out, with gentle words and soothing noises, not much else could be done. Finally, the sobs seemed to subside, his violent shakes and quivers dissipated and he was left a quietly trembling mess.

“I love you.” He whispers, and everyone understood, “I miss you, why did you leave me? I can’t… do this alone, you were all I had left, please don’t leave me. It wasn’t meant to go like this, you were meant to survive, to pull us out early. You said… you lied, to save me the pain I already knew was there.”

Then arms are around him, cradling much like he had cradled Allura when she was just a baby.

“We must be strong for him, Coran.” Allura murmured, she hadn’t known the truth about Coran and her father until now, “We must carry on for him.”

“I know, Princess.” Coran whispered, “If only I could go back - I’d trade my life for his-,”

 _“Oh my god…”_ Someone, Pidge, probably, gasped.

“I would die a thousand times over, if it meant he would live.”

No one said anything more after that, all choosing to comfort in silence, piling onto the bed and wrapping Coran up in a warm, safe place. This was his family now. He had new ones to protect. He had lived for Alfor, and now it was time to carry on for these six; this beautiful, misshapen, mismatch of a family.

For once in the quintants since he’d woken from his 10,000 year slumber, Coran slept, properly. No nightmares tore at him, no screams or shouts or tears woke him. He simply slept, and dreamt pleasent dreams; of a little boy with silver hair that shone like moonlight, and flowers tucked behind his ears, and a kiss stored in the corner of his mouth, waiting patiently for another with ginger hair, sparkling eyes and that dazzling smile to take it for his own.


End file.
